12:31 am - 10.15.04Noel Nouvelet
He agreed when they said they were going to finally clean up the street.

He remembered as a child, standing on the steps of the great Capital, looking down at the Street. Snow white, and a long stripe of dark grey concrete flowed off into the horizon. Christmas lights in the trees set the Street in a lovely glow. If you listened carefully, you could hear the low saxophone blowing cold and clear in the night.

The Street was beautiful then, even the bars and adult bookstores, added a certain flavor to the total personality.

But that would soon change.

In 1985, a woman returning home late that night, was gunned down while crossing an empty lot. The man who shot her, grabbed her purse and ran. The woman's name was Sister Bethany Johnson, she volunteered her time at the local homeless shelter. On Saturdays she read stories at the Eastside Children's Hospital. The lot where she died, used to be a men's formalwear shop, but had to be teared down for shoddy foundation work. The company who owned the property knew they would have trouble selling property that was involved in a murder, so they offered the property to the city. Finally, 2 years to the day of Sister Betty's murder, the Mayor of the city, with several reporters and spectators, dedicated the Sister Betty Johnson Harmony Park. It was an oasis of green between a shoe store, and a record store. A large stone plaque stood where Sister Betty's body was found. A short description of her death, and her life accomplishments was engraved in the stone.

The man walked down the Street. He looked over where Sister Betty's stone once stood. Instead there was a large carousel. He looked down at his feet, where the old grey concrete street once stood, there was not green grass. The sidewalks were a mixure of pink marble and diamonds of yellow granite. All of the shops were given face-lifts, all to appear new and modern. Allthough with the addition of the enclosed ceiling, that enveloped the last 4 blocks of the Street in a glass lid, the man still felt cold. The street-heaters ran at night for reasons unknown, perhaps to heat the bodies of the security guards who patrolled the Street after it's closing at 10pm. No longer are street muscians allowed to play their melodies to the night. No room for saxophones, accordians, voices, or even flutes.(unfinished)